The Yakuza Kid
by FrenchieLeigh
Summary: ONESHOT, AU: Being the new kid at school is never easy. For eleven year old Saitou Hajime this is especially true. He is mean, unapproachable, and even worse, the son of a brutal Yakuza elite. When he finds himself playing hero to the small and studious Takagi Tokio, he is reminded that he doesn't have to be nice to do good.


**Author's Note:** Because who doesn't like a little bit of S/T childhood goodness?

**Disclaimer**: I do not own any of the official Rurouni Kenshin/Samurai X characters. I do reserve the rights to all OCs

**The Yakuza Kid**

At eleven years old, Saitou Hajime had never before entered the public school system. Up until this moment, as he stepped into his new sixth grade classroom in the middle of the school year, he had attended the most prestigious private elementary school in Tokyo alongside his two best friends.

But then his father had been re-located to Kyoto on "business" and while the Saitou family was more than capable of funding their son's way though all the best schools in the country no matter where they made their home, Saitou Yuusuke had decided his son would be much more useful to him if he mingled with the lower class children.

Hajime didn't care much for which school he was placed in. He would be a stranger to everyone no matter where he went and that suited him just fine. He didn't need to make new friends when he had two perfectly good ones back home. His mother had promised him they would return home soon.

He didn't believe her.

His new teacher introduced him to the class with a pretty smile, as she was paid to do. He vaguely wondered how many of the fathers thought about her at night. She was cute.

Whispers swept around the classroom as he stood before his new peers and he kept his jaw steeled, bearing no emotion as the floated to his ears.

_He is scary looking!_

_ I hope he doesn't sit here._

_ I heard his father works for the syndicate._

_ Yeah, he's totally a Yakuza kid._

"Now," the teacher thought softly, placing two gentle hands on his shoulders, "Why don't you have a seat by Michiko over there."

As his narrow, golden eyes followed his teacher's finger to locate his new desk, he watched his classmate's worried faces, all praying it wasn't them he'd be seated next to. The girl in question, however, Futomi Michiko, sat up tall, wiggling her torso as she did so, and puffing out her chest slightly, showing off her developing breasts.

Saitou resisted the urge to roll his eyes at the display.

He nodded in thanks to the teacher and made his way down the row to his new desk, feeling the other children shrink away as he passed them. Setting his books down, he kept his attention forward. The sooner this day was over, the sooner he'd have time for more important things.

Beside him, Michiko lathered her lips in a glittering vanilla scented gloss, and leaned over to whisper in his ear.

"Page thirty-seven, Haji-kun," she cooed, licking her finger to turn the pages of his book for him. He brushed her away.

She snapped her gum and pretended not to notice. "Rumor is your dad works for the syndicate. That must be exciting."

He didn't respond to this. Instead, he pulled out a golden pen, and began to jot down notes as the teacher read from the history book.

"You're left handed?" Michiko examined her own, perfectly manicured left hand, "that's so cute."

When he ignored her again, she pouted, and from the desk directly to his left, came a small voice. "I don't think he wants to talk to you, Michiko."

Saitou paused, looking over. He could have sworn that desk had been empty. But it wasn't. The person who sat at it, however, was extremely small. So small that he wondered if she were sick.

"No one asked you ,Takagi!" Michiko hissed, pulling the gum from her mouth and flicking it directly into the other girl's hair.

Mouthing a silent cry so as not to disrupt the lesson, Takagi Tokio squeezed her eyes shut as she fingered the gum that was now caught in her already unruly mess of curls. For a moment, Saitou seethed internally, damning the teacher for putting him between two pubescent girls, but when the small Tokio let out a little sigh and went back to taking notes, he relaxed.

Michiko giggled. "Pay no attention to her Haji-kun," she drawled, waving her hand, "she's like, really poor and dirty. No one likes her."

Tokio didn't react to these words, and at first, neither did Saitou.

"Anyway," Michiko continued, "You're super cute. We should probably date."

"I don't think so."

For the first time ever, the bratty girl sat back, stunned. No boy had ever said _no_ to her before. "E-excuse me? Do you have any idea who I _am_?"

Saitou shrugged. "No, but you act like a prostitute and I find such behavior grossly unattractive."

While Michiko let her eyes well up with fake tears, Tokio's eyes grew wide. No one had _ever_ spoken to Michiko in such a fashion. Ever. She didn't say anything, but as she turned her head back down to her schoolwork, she smiled, and as Saitou returned to his, he saw.

"You're so _mean!" _

The teacher paused, looking up from her book and blinking. "Is there a problem, Futomi-chan?"

Michiko wobbled her bottom lip. "Saitou-san is being mean," she pouted, "he's a troublemaker!"

Raising a brow, the young woman looked towards Saitou, inviting him to confess his crime. Clearing his throat, he stood tall. "I find this seat to be greatly distracting. While I do not enjoy school, by law I am required to be here, so I fully intend to complete my studies with perfection."

Shaking her head, the teacher squinted her eyes a bit, trying to understand. Saitou let out a barely audible huff, and clarified.

"I can not concentrate when the class whore is hounding my ass throughout the entire lesson."

There was a collective gasp around the classroom and he took a small breath inwards, reminding himself that he was new here, and not entirely in favor with all of the administration just yet.

"I apologize for my vulgar words," he added, even though he barely meant it.

She cleared her throat awkwardly. "Well then. Ah. . ."

Saitou waited for a moment as the cute, young, and probably inexperienced, educator considered what should be done about the situation. It was quite clear the fuss Michiko would raise should she be punished and he was loathe to discover what sort of family she came from that gave her such power at eleven years old. Not that he should be speaking, of course.

Gathering his books, he removed himself from the seat, strode around Tokio's desk, and carefully placed everything down on the empty one to her left.

"Perhaps I shall be less offensive here," he suggested with a narrow flicking of his eyes.

"That is a very good solution," the teacher replied with a smile, returning to her reading.

By the end of the day, Saitou had decided that this school was boring. It could have been due to his lack of friends; he was only an eleven year old boy after all, but for the young wolf, his sense of boredom came from how incredibly _common_ all of his classmates were. There was nothing remarkable about any of them except for their incessant need to either showcase their fear of him, or make an attempt to kiss his ass.

Just after school let out, he found himself by a storage unit, presumably housing sporting equipment, not ready to go home just yet. For every one thing he hated about school, there were ten reasons to detest his own home. Nursing a cigarette he stared up at the sky, clear and blue, and wondered what his friends were doing. It was Tuesday. Harada Sanosuke would be at archery club, Okita Soushi counting the minutes before it was done so he might be able to practice his kendo.

Saitou sighed, exhaling a steady stream of smoke, and let his back fall against the storage unit. Being a kid was stupid.

"Hello?"

He straightened, lowering his cigarette. It wouldn't do to be caught smoking on his very first day.

"Are you a teacher? Could you let me out, please?"

There was a knocking from the other side of the container that accompanied the small female voice and when he turned with a frown, he saw it had been locked up for the day, complete with chains and padlock.

"I'm not a teacher," came his gruff reply.

"Oh."

There was silence for a moment, in which he raised the smoke back to his lips, but when the girl banged her fists against the metal, he jumped, dropping it to the ground.

"Are you _smoking_?! Students aren't allowed to smoke you know. It's bad for you. _And_ you'll get in big trouble with the teachers. But if you're a delinquent, I guess maybe you don't care about that."

Saitou had half a mind to walk away. It was no wonder she was locked up, babbling on like that. He could already feel a headache coming on, so he lit up another cigarette, blowing smoke into the crack where the two doors met.

Though he had expected her to shriek and reprimand him some more (he supposed this was one of the student council types), he was met with silence, and he grinned smugly, settling his back against the unit once again and smoking furiously as a show of how much he didn't care.

After a few minutes he heard a small sigh, and if he wasn't mistaken, she had settled on the floor, back pressed up against the doors from her side.

"If you wouldn't mind," she asked softly, "please tell a teacher that I'm in here. I need to get home."

He didn't answer her, so she added, "whenever you're done."

"Are you always so stupid?" he questioned, snuffing his smoke with his foot as he flicked it onto the ground.

He could practically hear her hackles raise. "I didn't get _lost_ in here," she snapped, "I was locked in here on purpose!"

Straightening, Saitou stood alert. So she had been bullied. He hated bullies. It wasn't that he was a champion of the weak; it was a family thing.

With a small grunt, he reached to his left where a few baseball bats lat strewn about, and with an impressive sort of finesse, bashed open the lock. Pulling open the doors, he looked in curiously, but stepped back with a snarl when the small form of Takagi Tokio rolled out at his feet.

She stood, dusting off her uniform, and smiled up at him.

"Thank you, Saitou-san."

She was dirty, he noticed, incredibly so, and wondered if it were because of her bullies, or that she simply didn't bathe. The gum Michiko had thrown at her had spread in her attempts to remove it and what could have been a lush forest of gorgeous ebon curls atop her head, was little more than a nest for rats or wild birds.

"Takagi."

"I'm sorry to have bothered you," she admitted, "usually they don't find me until after sunset. I'm so happy you were here!"

He opened his mouth to accept her gratitude, but she cut him off as her smile flipped upside down and she threw him a stern look.

"But you should _not_ be smoking! We are only in sixth grade and we have our entire lives ahead of us. Do you really intend to cut yours short by beginning such an unhealthy habit so young?"

He closed his eyes, wishing her back in the storage container.

Sensing that he didn't care much for her opinion, she shrugged. "Well thanks then," she said again, giving him a short wave, then trotting off.

The next afternoon was a peaceful one with no girls locked up in equipment lockers. The one after that was not. It wasn't just that he had to fish his classmate out from a metal box again, but this time, she was crying. She tried to hide it as she smiled her thanks at him, but he wasn't stupid.

"It's because you're so small," he told her as he took a drag from his cigarette, "And you're dirty."

"I can't help being _small_," she huffed.

"It's not normal for an eleven year old to be so tiny," he replied, "It says that you're weak and defenseless."

"I'm eight."

Saitou paused, flicking his narrow gaze to her. "What?"

Tokio shuffled nervously and flashed him a small grin. "I'm only eight. They're the ones who are weak if they have to pick on a little kid."

He resisted the urge to furrow his brow, instead, stared at her blandly. "So what are you, some sort of genius then?"

She smiled and pushed some of her wild hair back from her face. "Teachers seem to think so."

He didn't say as much, but he was impressed. He didn't know much about her, but she kept to herself and her books during the day and he could appreciate that. Not many of the students took school seriously, and the ones that did were overly vocal about it. Having to rescue this tiny twerp of a nerd was irritating, but refreshing.

"You still have gum in your hair," he noted, nodding to the candy with his chin.

Her face flushed and she slapped a hand to the side to cover it up. She'd been so busy she had forgotten all about it.

"I-I have to go home."

Saitou frowned as she scurried away and he dropped his cigarette, looking around the schoolyard. There wasn't anyone around, and while he mumbled to himself, _It doesn't matter, it doesn't matter_, his legs didn't care much for his mind's disinterest and he soon found himself walking off in the direction she had run.

He followed her for a few minutes, careful to stay a steady pace behind her so as not to frighten her and have her dart away. She wasn't running anymore, but walking briskly in the direction of a small grocery store. He shrugged and leaned up against a wall. There wasn't anything unusual about a kid picking up dinner on her way home, but there wasn't anything particularly exciting about it either.

Just as he was about to light up another smoke, he noticed that she wasn't going into the grocer, but around it. Interest piqued, he stood up a bit straighter and moved a few inches to his left so he could get a better view.

And there she was, his tiny brainiac classmate, digging in the garbage cans. Saitou wrinkled his nose at the display, but when she emerged with a few packaged meals left relatively untouched (save their questionable outer packaging) and a triumphant cry, he swallowed hard.

Shaking it off, he pushed off the wall and followed her down the street once more. Dumpster diving was disgusting. It was low and dirty. Any other time he would have interrupted, taunting her and suggesting she get a part time job to improve her situation. But then he remembered that she was just a kid and she was a quiet one at that. She didn't bother anyone with her troubles, so it would be quite a waste of his time to make such things public.

Rounding the corner he found himself on a dirty street with houses that seemed to be collapsing on each other. Stray dogs and cats ran about raising their hackles and from the balconies and porches, degenerates sat drinking or smoking next to bags of trash. He was careful not to touch the walls here, as they were all dripping with various sticky liquids.

Tokio, however, was not fazed by any of this. Excited by her treasures, she slid open the door to a house that was either hers, or some place she was currently staying, and announced her arrival.

He took this time to scoot closer to the house. One of the windows was missing and it was easy for him to look into the one room house without being noticed.

"_You useless cow!"_

Saitou jumped, golden eyes widening ever so slightly as a teenage boy screamed at her, slapping the food from her hands.

"How you you expect me to eat this? It's cold!"

Inside the house, Tokio stood her ground. "It wasn't all for you, Akira. Mitsu is sick. She needs good food."

This earned her a solid slap across the face. "You should take your head out of those stupid books," Akira ground out, shoving her to the ground and keeping her in place with his foot on the side of her head, "make yourself useful and get out on the street corner."

"I'm not going to be a whore," she whimpered, "I'm going to school so I can get a good job and take care of all of you."

"Ha!" With a swift kick to her stomach, Akira moved away from her, stuffing a pack of cigarettes into his shirt pocket. "What use are sisters when you can't make any money off of them?"

She lifted herself off the ground and reached for a package, handing it to a small girl who couldn't have been more than three years old. "Eat this," she said gently, eyes ever watchful of her older brother's movements.

Outside, Saitou stood rigid. Another bully. He hated bullies.

Akira sighed. "Well whatever. You can answer to papa when he gets home then."

"Where are you going?" she asked, doing her best to keep the hopefulness from her voice. Maybe he'd be gone for a few days.

"I'm going out to drink. I'm going to get really drunk and have a lot of sex."

Tokio lowered her eyes and her cheeks reddened. She wished she hadn't asked. What had she been expecting? That he was going out to find a job? Or going on a real date? Or even something completely normal such as going to the arcade with a friend? But her brother didn't have a job, or a girlfriend, or friends. He was a punk, a leech, and a lecherous youth who took advantage of everything he could.

She didn't say anything more and he left with a disgusted grunt in her direction. Saitou watched the scene, wondering why he had come here in the first place. It wasn't any of his business what sort of life she had at home and he didn't particularly care about her.

Did he?

Just as he had made up his mind to turn back and forget about this dump of a neighborhood, a man hobbled up to the house on a crutch. One of his legs was just as it should be, the other had been cut off just above the knee. He was young, probably not yet forty, and though his eyes were bright and hopeful, his face was drawn, the sign of a man working too much for too little.

"I'm home," he called gently, leaning his crutch against the dirty wall. While Saitou had expected this 'papa' to be a larger form of Akira, he found himself greatly mistaken. At the sound of her father's voice, Tokio perked up, launching herself at him.

"I'm so happy you're home!" she cried, snuggling against his chest while he kissed the top of her head.

"Where is Akira?" the man asked, looking around their pitiful shack.

"Out with friends," Tokio lied, garnering a sigh from her father.

"Always out," he muttered, "that boy's got to come around and start helping out."

But Tokio didn't want to stay on that topic. "I got you dinner!"she proclaimed, handing him a cup of steaming instant noodles. "It isn't much, but it's good."

"It _is_ good," he agreed, laughing. "but what about you?"

She smiled at him, wiping Mitsu's mouth of crumbs, "oh, I already ate at my friend's house today. I stopped by after school to help her with some homework."

The relief on his face was almost tangible and Saitou raised a brow, impressed at the lies that flowed so easily from Tokio's mouth, and her willingness to starve herself for the sake of her father and sister. Then, he felt a stab of something else, something foreign to him.

Jealousy.

This family, despite their completely rock bottom situation, was _happy_ together. Tokio's father didn't seem at all upset that he had only one working leg (or perhaps he didn't know any better?), and likewise, the two children before him were thrilled simply to have him home with them.

Family was a funny thing and up until now he had never really witnessed what it meant. Saitou didn't have family; he had guardians that had spawned him. His two friends _did_ have happy homes, but with the three families all being so well off, he now wondered if that happiness was genuine, or built out of a comfortable lifestyle. How much really would any of them sacrifice for the others?

For weeks he continued this routine. Save Tokio from a storage shed, a bathroom stall, or a supply closet, then silently and anonymously follow her home, watching as she fought and clawed for her and her family's survival. Sometimes she would be chased away by a storekeeper. Sometimes they would come out offering fresh food and she would get scared and run.

In the end, no matter what she did or didn't come home with, her father still welcomed her with open arms, and more often than not, apologies for not being able to provide for them. She never cried, and she never complained, not even when Akira, that rotten cowardly brother of hers, stood over her kicking and berating her when their parent wasn't around.

One day, about a month after he had started spying on her, Saitou turned away and headed back to his cold, loveless, prison of a home. There was something he needed to do.

Not three seconds did he step into the marble hall of his parents' unnecessarily flamboyant mansion was he pulled into a tight embrace reeking of perfume, tanning lotion, and vodka.

His mother was home.

"Oooooh _Hajime!_" she cooed, pulling away to look at him, "you're getting so _big_."

Swatting her hands, he looked away with a huff. "Mother, you've been gone for a week." He really hadn't grown at all since then.

Saitou Yaso let out a small giggle, then wagged her manicured finger in his face. "Have you been smoking again, baby?"

He didn't answer her and she straightened, running her hands through his hair. This annoyed him. He'd taken a lot of time this morning to make sure his hair was perfectly slicked back (save those _stupid_ defiant bangs) and now _she_ thought it was fine to just ruin all that hard work.

"You are so handsome," she sighed, her voice thick with a desire that she never showed her husband. The same could not be said for her son.

"You're drunk, mother," Saitou said flatly, ducking out from her touch. His skin was already crawling and he hadn't been in her presence more than two minutes.

"Maybe I am," she agreed, giggling and dropping herself onto a settee in the magnificent hallway, arching her back and throwing him a suggestive look, "but that still doesn't change how much I love you."

Saitou blew some air out of his nose and headed up the grand staircase towards his father's office, ignoring the cat calls and mewls from the woman down below. Even if she hadn't been his mother he would never want anything to do with her. She was beautiful, he supposed, and she was still young, not yet thirty, but that's where her positive attributes ended. Money hungry and light skirted, the only thing she knew how to do was charm men and drink alcohol.

He was well aware that he was nothing but a product of her promiscuity. It was either his very good fortune, or very _bad_ fortune that his father, a wealthy yakuza thug now in his mid forties, had the power to make the brazen beauty his wife and thus, Hajime his heir.

He was admitted into his father's office immediately and when he stood before the desk with his hands clasped behind his back, Yuusuke stared at him with amusement.

"Can I help you?"

"I need money," Saitou stated.

His father raised a brow. "How much?"

"Forty million yen."

As unexpressive as his son, Yuusuke blinked once. "What for?"

Saitou kept his gaze steady on his father. "That is my concern, not yours."

This elicited a grin from the man at the desk and he sat back, putting his feet up. "My eleven year old son is asking for forty million yen. Somehow I believe I have a right to know where this money is going."

"I intend to buy a house."

This earned him a bark of laughter. "A house? For who? Yourself?"

But the boy didn't answer, keeping his steely eyes upon his parent. Yuusuke, however, was not one to fall victim to the little wolf's glare. With a deadly sort of calm, he dropped his feet to the ground, folded his hands on the wooden desktop, and leaned forward.

"Listen to me you little shit," he spat, "you're not getting so much as a _shingle_ from me until I get all the details. And I want the truth, all of it, or I'll beat you to an inch of your life."

Saitou blinked, but made no other movement. He was accustomed to that threat. He was equally accustomed to the truth behind it and had the scars to prove it, but he didn't care. Eventually he'd grow up and leave this place.

Yuusuke must have realized the ineffectiveness of this threat because as he placed a cigarette between his lips, he let out a small chuckle. "Or maybe I'll tie you up and let your slut mother have her way with you."

And there it was. It wasn't quite fear, but there was something that flashed through his son's eyes that told him he had an upper hand. Tossing Hajime his lighter, he lifted his chin.

"Now tell me, why do you need a house?"

For the first time today, Saitou had no desire to smoke. He stared down at the lighter for a moment, then lifted his head.

"There's a girl at school."

"Oh _Christ_ Hajime," Yuusuke groaned. And here he had thought perhaps it would be something worthwhile. "Don't start buying houses for girls. There's plenty of snatch in this city you can get for free."

Insulted, Saitou took a step back. "I am eleven years old, father. Trust me when I tell you sex is not yet at the front of my mind."

Yuusuke flicked some ash into a tray, "Shame," he muttered, "you don't know what you're missing."

Shoving down the urge to reach for a letter opener on the desk and shove it through his father's neck, Saitou took a calming breath. "My interests in this girl are not romantic," he told him finally, "she is. . .she can be useful to us."

Talking about Tokio as if he had plans for her to enter the syndicate made him uncomfortable but it was the only way he'd ever be able to get his father to comply.

"So what's the deal with her? She's hot? Got daddy issues? She's a virgin, right?"

"She's smart."

Yuusuke wrinkled his nose. "_Smart_? We don't need _smart_ women, Hajime. We need beautiful women. We need women who don't talk, women who, on the outside look like princesses, but under the sheets—"

"_She's exotic_," Saitou ground out. And she _was_ beautiful, or at least he imagined she would be once she got a little older. With a tiny frame and bright shining eyes, he couldn't imagine a man who wouldn't want her looking at him, either begging for approval, or with her scowl, silently reprimanding him.

It was in that moment he realized why he was truly here, in this study. It wasn't just that he wanted to do something nice for a family down on their luck, but he wanted to protect _her. From everything_.

"And she's smart," he continued, "With her brainpower, she could double, or triple the efficiency of your operations. Once she's grown, of course. Right now, she lives in destitution, but I am confident that with the proper resources, with a _normal_ life, her potential will explode."

This interested Yuusuke. "And you intend to take responsibility for this? Why do you feel the need to play the hero?"

Why did he?

Because. Because he was trapped in his own pathetic life, but if he could free her from hers, perhaps he could live vicariously through her. Perhaps if she was able to succeed and spend her days smiling in the sun instead of digging through garbage cans, he would be able to take a small piece of that joy.

And maybe, if she could be happy because of him, he wouldn't feel so alone.

"She sits next to me," he replied, "and she stinks."

It wasn't a believable answer, and neither of them made an attempt to think it was the whole truth, but Yuusuke supposed it was good enough. Hajime had a fondness for this genius girl, some sort of affection that wasn't physical and wasn't yet romantic. But it was strong.

"What is her name?"

"Takagi Tokio."

Yuusuke thought on this for a moment, then rolled his chair over to his computer and began searching a database. Saitou waited patiently, fingering the lighter in his hands.

"Ah…" he said finally, "just as I thought."

Saitou let out a small, 'hm', that begged his father to elaborate.

"Her father," he began, jotting a couple things down on a notepad next to the keyboard, "Takagi Kojuro, is indebted to us. Quite a bit too. About. . . six million yen."

Nodding to himself as he digested this new information, Saitou kept calm. Another trouble Tokio had kept to herself.

"How?"

Yuusuke clicked, then scrolled. "His wife had leukemia," he muttered, "and two weeks before she died, he fell at the construction site he was working at and crushed his leg. They couldn't save it so they chopped it off." Clicking out, he shrugged, "nothing really out of the ordinary, but he couldn't keep up with the medical bills, so he came to us."

Saitou gripped the lighter. What kind of moron was this guy? He must not have been thinking clearly through his grief, coming to the Yakuza for a loan. Everyone knew how dangerous that was. His father's men wouldn't let that family eat, sleep, or even _breathe_ until every yen was paid back. They would take advantage of Kojuro's handicap too. He knew, he'd seen it firsthand. This branch of the syndicate was nothing more than ruthless bullies and the young Saitou hated every single one of them.

"You seem upset, Hajime. You little friend must keep many secrets from you."

He didn't respond. _Why did he even care?_

"I won't give you the money, Hajime."

Still he remained unmoving. He wasn't a hero, he wasn't even a nice kid, but there was a real fear settling in the pit of his stomach. If Kojuro wasn't able to repay the money, he knew what would happen to Tokio and it was much worse than any threats her brother had been tossing at her. And for some reason, he cared about that. He cared a lot.

"I'll pay the debt," Saitou said resolutely. "Take it from my account and consider the Takagi family free from this."

Yuusuke sat back in surprise, laughing, "This little bit of pussy is that important to you?"

"Just do it!"

The older man gauged his son for a moment, watching as his eyes narrowed and his shoulders, generally broad and stiff, trembled slightly.

"Alright," he said quietly, "but it won't be replenished and what is left is what you have to survive on."

Saitou was fine with that. He had a little less than four million left. That would get him by until he had a job of his own. Hell, it was still more money than any of his peers would ever have at their disposal.

With a stiff bow, he thanked his father and turned to leave.

"I hope she's worth it," came taunting words from behind the desk, "because if she isn't, I'll feed you both to the wolves."

Saitou allowed himself a small, sly grin as he exited. _Not if I become one_.

At school the next day, he noticed that Tokio had washed her hair. Her uniform was clean too and though she didn't know it, he was proud of himself. She'd still be poor, probably for a long time, but at least now her father's wages could go to his family, not the loan sharks.

She smiled as she took her notes too, something he had never seen her do before. At lunch while everyone was chatting and socializing, she kept her face in her book. She wasn't eating again, he noticed, but he came prepared.

"Hey," he grunted, standing by her desk, towering over her and holding out a chocolate bar.

She looked up at him, curious. "Saitou-san?"

It was here where Saitou realized that she thought nothing of him aside from the boy from school that happened to pull her out of jams, but still talked down to her. He had been so caught up in his fantasy of protecting her, he had forgotten that to her, he was little more than a stranger.

He also realized that he had _zero_ experience talking to girls.

"My mother is stupid," he told her, thrusting the candy forward, "she knows I hate sweets but she packed me this anyway."

It was a lie. He had bought it specifically for her.

Tokio blinked.

"And you're a girl so you like sweets, right?"

"Ah. . .yes?"

"Then _here_," he insisted, shoving it in her face, "take it, stupid."

She did as he told her, taking a bite and squealing slightly at the flavor. How long had it been since she'd had chocolate? Since before her mother had passed away.

"Thank you so much, Saitou-san!" she cried, wiggling in her seat. He smiled softly at this. She was adorable.

"It's just chocolate," he huffed, pretending not to notice the way she grinned with each bite, or that there was a little speck of it melted by the corner of her mouth.

As happy as this moment was for the both of them, it quickly turned sour when Michiko made herself present, three of her friends behind her.

"Wow Takagi," she sneered, "a miracle must have happened. You can afford vending machine candy."

Saitou flicked his narrow gaze over to the girls, unappreciative of their appearance. As usual, Tokio ignored her, focused on the treat she had been gifted. Annoyed by the lack of attention, Michiko moved forward to slap the bar away from the curly headed girl, but Saitou, through with the bullying, was much faster. Within a second, he gripped Michiko by her wrist, twisting her arm behind her back and slamming her, face down, onto his own desk.

"You will not touch her ever again," he growled in her ear, "or I swear on my life I will snap this arm clean off."

"D-don't you know who I am?" she sputtered, close to tears, though whether they were real or conjured, he didn't care.

"Don't you know who _I_ am?" he countered, "you should know better than to screw around with a Yakuza kid, you idiot girl."

Her fear was real; he could practically smell it, and when he released her, she stumbled back. "Fine," she snapped, "keep your little mob wife all to yourself. Freaks need to stick together, after all."

It was a weak insult, and one neither Saitou nor Tokio bore.

"You really didn't have to do that, Saitou-san," she said quietly, setting down her chocolate, "she always stops after a while."

Crossing his arms, he looked down at her. "I detest bullies. My father is a bully and he makes a lot of money doing so."

"_And_," he added, "my name is Hajime. You should use it."

She smiled at this and let out a small '_okay_', before furrowing her brow and looking up at him curiously. "Why are you so nice to me?"

"You shouldn't let other people walk all over you," he replied gruffly, ignoring her question, "you won't make anything of yourself that way."

"It's not easy to stand up for yourself when you're outnumbered, outweighed, and outclassed," she admitted, "sometimes it's just best to keep to yourself and endure it."

Saitou's eyes narrowed, "Don't ever think you're less than anyone else. You have your strengths. And where you fall short, I'll stand for you."

Her eyes widened, snapping to his and he, realizing what he'd voiced aloud, felt his cheeks begin to warm. He clenched his fists and pushed her candy bar across the desk back towards her.

"Eat," he ordered, brushing off the adoration that was steadily filling her eyes, "you're too skinny."

He had an abrasive way of showing affection, but Tokio wasn't bothered by it. He meant well, she now realized, and even though his face was scary and he had a bit of a temper, she liked him. And for some reason, he liked her too.

"Thank you Hajime," she whispered, tucking the end of the candy into her bookbag. She'd save it for Mitsu.

"We're going out for soba after school," he decided, "so hurry up and finish this classwork."

"But I—"

"I said I'd take care of you," he snapped, "so let me take care of you."

He sat back at his desk and opened up his book. Class was about to resume. "Besides," he added, "there will be leftovers. You don't have to be worried."

And for the first time since she'd lost her mother, she wasn't.

xxxx

**Author's Notes:** I hope you enjoyed it! I was at a bit of a loss as to how I should write child!Saitou, so I hope I did alright. ._.


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